The lost art of customer service

I’ve spent the best part of the afternoon trying to set up electronic access to one of our journals, I won’t bore you with the painfully long process I had to go through to actually get it, but here’s the last reply I got:

"You can furnish me with a password and I can enter it in."

What?! That’s not even bloody English. If they weren’t on the wrong side of the Atlantic I’d be furnishing them with more than a bloody password.

Our Man on a spending spree?

Do a good thing today. Be entertained and get the itchiest feet you've ever had. Go here, read it, and before you pack your bags for and head for the nearest airport, leave a comment and vote for Our Man and make him a Rich Man. $500 to the winner.

Update! He won, hooray! The full weeks guest blogging can be found here.

O.A.L. Old Age Librarian

So, I'm now officially the wrong side of 29. On Sunday afternoon my best friend phoned me to ask "are you suicidal yet?", and I was little unhappy in a "what have I done with my life" way. Luckily by the time I woke up on Monday, the mood had passed and I had a lovely day. It was super sunny, so, as befits a librarian of my age, Mr L & I took a stroll around the local park (where I saw an obscene amount of duck sex. Ducks! Get a room!) and then went for lunch.

As we were waiting for our food, the couple at the table next to us were just leaving. The lady rose from her chair accompanied by the "oofs" and "ooohs" that accompany us over 30s every time we do anything more strenuous than drinking a cup of tea. When she'd got to her feet, she turned to us and said "You never think you're going to get old. I don't think I'm much longer for this world". What are you supposed to say to that?

And is this what you get when you reach your thirties, no more strippers* for your birthday just a Pensioner-o-Gram who comes to tell you of the 'joys' ahead of you?

*Although I've never been sent a stripper. And that's they way I like it, thanks.

The dog ate my homework

Ooooh, you'll never guess what happened! Well, there I was flying back to LA from Sydney when the plane only went and crashed! No? Yes! So then, I was all stranded on this island with these other damn annoying people and would you believe it - in this weird underground house thing, there was a computer! "Great" I thought, and there I was all set to update my blog but apparantly someone blogging about 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42 was more important and so it's been three months since I last wrote here.

Oh, alright. I have not been living in Lost since December (not even the faux England bit where Charlie lives). I'm just lazy.

Here are ten things that have happened since I last blogged.

1. I got a whole lot closer to 30. Boo!
2. I booked a holiday with my best friend in Tunisia - we are off on April 1st to drink for a week in the sun and forget all about the fact that we are both 30. I booked it All Inclusive and she doesn't know. The reason I decided to book All Inclusive wasn't down to the unlimited booze, or use of pedalos, but the fact that you get Afternoon Tea and Biscuits every day. Rock.
3. I gave 20p to a woman with no change who needed to use the loo at Charing Cross Station. This means that I have repaid the 20p a lady gave to me almost two years ago when I was desperate at Victoria Station and had no change. I had been waiting all that time for someone to help. Karma.
4. The library was broken into and some hoodlum stole 12 computers. Double boo!
5. I signed up for a librarians conference in April 'cus Miss S is going too, only to be told by a publishers rep I know that the kind of people that go to this conference are "hardcore drinkers" and "party until 5am". There is a disco every night. Both Miss S and I will be taking cameras, I think this has to be seen to be believed.
6. I attended a course at my old university and saw one of my old tutors. She didn't recognise me as the drunken idiot who stood on her handbag in the pub at the christmas 'do'.
7. I had my hair cut and immediately wished I hadn't.
8. I realised that I really like singing along to songs that have the word "goddamn" in them.
9. I went to the theatre in Manchester and a man was sick on me during the interval. This is what happens when you attend a cultural event in the north of this country.
10. I got a even closer to 30. Boo!

So see, apart from the burlgary and vomiting incidences, you didn't really miss much, did you?

Other triangular snacks are available

I suspect I'm not being very professional right now. I'm running the library on my own, and I'm eating Doritos and salsa dip straight from the jar. I have spilled it down my chin, my cardigan, on my desk and on the squichy wrist rest thingy on my keyboard.

Merry Christmas!

List #2

Last night when I was closing the library, I found another list.

This one said:

egg bacon
tomato

2 x glasses
1 tea

I wonder if it was the same person? And what are they planning?

Cake or biscuit?

My main problem with Jaffa Cakes is not the “are they a biscuit or a cake?” debate (cake, quite clearly) but rather that they are so damn small! They are the only biscuits/cakes/niceness in the office, and I am here on my own. They announce very proudly on the packaging that there are 15 Jaffa Cakes inside, so if I eat them all, people will know just how very piggy I have been. Now do you see what the problem is?

What I need is one of these.

Every child needs this

and some adults too!

www.coloursarebrighter.com

Domestic Goddess

So, now that Mr L has gone back at university (or school as I like to call it) full time, I figured I needed a hobby for all those times that he's too busy studying to entertain me. I came up with lots of ideas; DIY, knitting, crafting, and just the one reason why none of those could be my hobby: I am rubbish at being practical and have no patience to learn new things. I thought about learning a new language, which I am good at and do love, but working two late nights a week really cuts your options down. That and I'm far too lazy to go to classes in the evening.

Finally, it dawned on me that I don't have to get a new hobby, I'll have more time to do the hobbies I already have (genius!). So I've taken to the kitchen with a vengeance and have started to cook more, read more cookery books and blogs (mmm, food porn) and even make my own cookery book from all the recipes I have gathered over the years. I even brought craft glue, which I have yet to cause trouble with, mainly by heeding the good advice given to me by Mrs D "remember, don't eat the craft glue".

On Monday I went shopping with some of the remaining gift vouchers that we were given at our wedding. I knew I was really an old married when I found myself in the House of Fraser kitchen section getting excited over finding a loose bottomed flan case and a silicon 6 hole muffin tray! You don't even want to know how super excited I got when i saw the sign saying "20% off all bakeware".

I can't wait to try them out. How long before my new hobby is Weightwatchers?!

They are my favourite band in the whole world ever

Twice in this past week on the way to work I have been struck down by radio rage. Or rather radio listener rage. Both for the same reason, people phoning up for competitions claiming to be the biggest fan of the band ever, ever, EVER and then turning out to be total idiots.

The first incident happened last Friday, when xfm were giving away 10th anniversary reissues of Placebo's debut album. There's your first clue, right there, the ten year anniversry - this band have been bround for at least 10 years. You phoned up, won a reissue and then went into a draw to go and see them live in Milan. So, between 8-9am the dude who phoned up was indeed, the biggest fan EVER of Placebo, ooh he LOVED them, he was, in his words "a massive fan". Then the DJ asks "so, you've seen them before then?", "no, never" came the reply. I'm sorry? I thought you were a "massive fan" and yet you're telling me that in the last ten years you've never managed to see them live? Ever? He then went on to say "I thought about getting tickets for this tour but I just haven't got round to it yet". What? This tour that sold out in about an hour, that the tickets went on sale for a good couple of months ago. Hey, I only "like" Placebo and I've seen them live at least twice. Forgive me, but thinking about maybe buying some tickets for a bands biggest tour to date, is not massive fan behaviour. This, this and this is.

And then this morning, in a multiple choice quiz in which the question was "where are The Zutons from?" and the answers were a) Liverpool, b) County Durham or c) Henry Kelly, yet another massive fan had to be literally told the answer before he finally said "Errrr, Liverpool?". Good grief. Even my mum knows that The Zutons are from Liverpool.

Bringing home the bacon

We have our food shopping delivered. This is not because we are too lazy to go to the supermarket but rather...oh, okay, it's because we are too lazy to go to the supermarket. Sometimes they can't provide you with exactly what you asked for, and so send a substitute. Sometimes these make sense, for example you don't have Braeburn apples, you send Coxes apples, sometimes, they make no sense at all. At all!

Imagine you are the person shopping for us (in my mind this is always a man who has never had to do food shopping in his life. Probably still lives at home with his mum). Into your trolley you have just put vegetarian 'sausages', vegetarian 'mince', soya yogurts, soya milk and many other products marked on the front with a very helpful big green 'V: Suitable for vegetarians and vegans', and then you get to the quiche section. There are no Cheese & Onion quiches left, so, bearing in mind what you have just put into your trolley, what do you send instead?

Why, Quiche Lorraine of course!

An Englishman's home is his (eco)castle

I love property programmes. I love them all and can watch them for hours on end, even if they are repeats. I think it's mostly because I know there's no way we'll be able to afford our own home anytime soon, I just love being nosey and looking at other peoples (more often than not) horrific takes on decoration.

I'm on a half day today, so I made a cuppa and a sandwich and sat down to watch Escape to the Country, which is a programme about, believe it or not, people moving to the country. Escape to the Country provided me with one of my favourite property programme moments ever, where a family from Birmingham looked at houses that they could run as a B&B, and everytime they went to open a door just before they did they said "Is it a toilet?" and then when they finially found the smallest room in the house exclaimed in a very excited voice "Oh! It's a toilet!!!!!" For weeks following this episode to me and my workmate opening the drawers and doors in our office at the time going "What's in here? Is it a toilet?". Imagine the hilarity!

Anyway, todays couple wanted an eco-friendly house. It was all "we need green this" and "eco that" and he was obsesseed with double and triple glazing. They wanted to have their own veggie patch and recylced water system. When they finally found a house they liked, they went down to the cellar where Eco Man said "Oh, this is brilliant. I could have a massive TV screen on that wall, a massive leather sofa there and all my games consoles."

So that'll be eco-tv, green leather and double glazed playstations then?

It's the least wonderful time of the year

As anyone who knows me knows, today is my least favourite day of the year. A Level Thursday. Whilst most rational people can let their A Level results day fade to a distant memory, mine is right up there at the front in bright technicoloured awfulness. The first thing I said this morning was "Grrr. A Level Thursday".

I hate A Level Thursday as it was one of the worst days of my life, and every year when I see all the 18 year olds who already have everything (blonde shiney hair, slimness, rich daddy) opening those godawful envelopes live on tv, only to discover that - and Oh! What a suprise! - they got straight A's, my heart goes out to all the 18 year olds who get 3D's and an E and think their life is over. Although I suppose letting the thick kids open their results only to start crying and pounding the ground wouldn't make quite as heartwarming a scene on breakfast tv. It would be more entertaining though, and at least I'd be able to relate to it "Oh, look, they've run out of the building straight to the clearing hotline to try and beg a place somewhere, I did that!", "Oh dear, she's ruinung her mascara, she could at least have waited 'til she got home like I did".

It just seems to be something I can't get over, which I should really, as it was 11 years ago. Wow, now I feel old......although to be fair, if I'd spent less time in pubs or misbehaving with boys and more time in actual lessons, I doubt it would have been so bad. I may not be a straight A girl, but boy, did I have fun!

The Big Five O!

Tomorrow one of my colleagues turns 50. He doesn't seem too fussed about this, which could be down to me shouting things like "enjoy the last night of your youth" across the library to him as he was leaving today....but me and my boss are very excited! We've been planning a party for him for ages. I've made a cake (I really have to stop volunteering to make cakes, I was whipping cream at 6.15am today) and we have banners, balloons, musical candles, everything you could ever want for a party. Apart from booze, but then we are having the party in the day, a room full of librarians is one thing, a room full of drunk librarians, well that's quite another matter altogether.

Only trouble is I have to leave as the party will be starting, as I have an appointment right the other side of town, so my dilemma is this - how best to reserve myself some party snacks? I might stick post-it's on to things I like the look of, or I could always hoard things in my desk...

This is hardcore

On Friday night we went out to celebrate a friends birthday. His wife had booked the private dining room here for him. She is a much better wife than I am. It was really lovely evening, a fabulous dining room to ourselves, the best food ever, good company, great service. In fact we were having such a lovely evening that it was some time before someone noticed that the pictures in the beautiful frames on the walls were porn. And why, yes they were! Lots and lots of victorian porn. Well! It was almost enough to put me off my dark chocolate and orange truffle cake.

Almost.

And judging by the bored faces of the ladies in the Vicporniana, I'd say my dessert was a whole lot better than theirs.

Lazy Librarian

I'm not very good at having a lie in. Stupidly early nights yes, lazy weekend mornings no. But this weekend I have had two 9am starts (this is probably the equivalent of you lying in 'til 1pm) and an afternoon nap! I must've needed it, as my nanna would have said. However, all this lying down has left me with a really bad back. The kind that is fine until you try to do something, which means every time I try and get out of bed, get off a chair, bend down, or do anything I am making an involuntary "oooh", "sssss", or "eee-aa-ooo" noise. Which is not very attractive, and the kinda thing I wasn't expecting until after my 30th birthday.

What's that coming over the hill...

...it's three people who appreciate an early night, that's what it is!

So a couple of weeks ago, me, Miss S and FM Dave went to see The Automatic. Oh, I thought we were being both 'hip' and indeed 'down with the kids' by going to see a relatively new band, and as I brought the tickets before Monster was even released (The Automatic 'Monster', not the REM 'Monster'. I don't think The Automatic were even born when that was out...) we had every reason to feel cool and smug. Ah, indie smugness, one of my favourite hobbies.

When we got to the doors a good 30 minutes after they should have opened, they were still shut! And there was a queue. A queue full of what appeared to be small children, which made us all feel 80 years old. We decided that we didn't want to stand around and wait for the doors to open, what with being 80 and all, as we needed a sit down. Ooh, our aching backs etc. etc. When we returned to the queue, the doors were open, and in we went, pausing only to remark how loud the music was - "it's so loud" - and also to note that the "loud" was still a good floor or two above us, and could only get louder.

So, to cut a long story short, we waited and waited for The Automatic to come on. And when did the cheeky blighters decide to turn up? 10pm, that's when. 10pm! On a school night! What were they thinking? Luckily they were rubbish and we decided to leave early, with a sensible loo stop on the way out, so we wouldn't have to catch the last train, or heaven forbid, the night bus home.

And that's when I knew I was old.

Senior moments

Blimey, I haven't blogged in ages! Lazy old me. There are lots of reasons I haven't blogged. I am actually busy doing work at work (I know!), not a great deal has happened to me in the last two months, but most importantly, my memory is broken. In the past couple of weeks you would not believe the amount of times I've thought "ooh, I'll blog about that" only to sit down in front of the pc and find my brain is full of "errrmmm" and not a lot else.

I'll start carrying a pad and pen around with me at all times, and we'll take it from there.

Pretty in pink

Next week I am going on my first ever gay hen night! The organiser says that the hen wants us to wear at lest one item of pink. She says "you MUST have a pair of pink shoes in your collection? "

Pink? Do I have pink? My wedding dress was pink! Although I will refrain from wearing my wedding dress (and only because I really don't think that it will fit me anytime soon, what with all the post wedding pigging out), I will wear my pink shoes, use my pink handbag, wear a lovely pink brooch and paint my nails pink. Not that you'll be interested, but I will also wear pink undies!

Trains, planes and automobiles

This is how I got to Alicante, the full journey from leaving home, to arriving in the villa...

Walk to station
Train to Victoria
Bus to Oxford Street
Go to work
Bus to Islington
Walk up Upper Street
Go to party
Walk to tube
Get tube to Victoria
Go for a wee at Victoria (in the toilets, stupid)
Get back on tube to Heathrow
Get Hotel Hoppa bus from Heathrow to hotel
Sleep in hotel, zzzzz
Get Hotel Hoppa bus from hotel to Heathrow
Fly to Madrid Barajas airport, terminal 4s*
Get funny underground driverless train to Madrid Barajas terminal 4
Get bus from terminal 4 to terminal 2
Get a bit lost in terminal 2
Get on metro to Madrid Chamartin train station
Get train to Alicante
Car fom Alicante station to Villa...and, relax.

Phew!

*Madrid terminal 4s - still not convinced it's actually in Spain. Should it really take two forms of transport just to leave the airport?